


Even If Flawed, You're Still a Work of Art to Me

by augopher



Series: The Things We Make, We Make With Love [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Art therapist Stiles Stilinski, Crafts, Derek can't do art, Derek is a mother hen, Engaged Sheriff and Melissa, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Kira Yukimura/Scott McCall, Painting, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sick Stiles, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish, Stiles' name is NOT Genim, Valentine's Day, gender variant character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homemade Valentines and homophobia over dinner out make for interesting days leading up to Valentine's Day. First crushes and an important conversation to end date night make Valentine's day memorable indeed.</p><p>However, no one could have predicted what the end of February would bring</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Princesses Have Pretty Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't post my work Goodreads

Stiles turned down the radio as he saw Stephen exit his school. Okay, so he might have been reticent about accepting such a large gift from his family, but he had to admit, it felt so much nicer to drive his Crosstrek Hybrid than the Jeep. For one, he so rarely had to fill up the tank, so that in itself was nice. The seats were more comfortable, the thing didn’t break down, and hell it looked pretty sharp with its black color, and matching leather interior. He secretly wanted to name the thing Derek, but decided against it (Car as it stood, still remained nameless). But the stereo...the stereo was world’s better than Roscoe’s.

The back passenger door opened, and Stephen slid in his backpack first before climbing into his booster seat. He’d picked out the heart patterned one himself when Derek insisted on getting a second one for Stiles’ car instead of moving the other one back and forth.

Stiles did not tear up a little at that; he absolutely did not. _Jesus, Stiles. Yes, you did. It was just a freaking child safety seat. Get a grip._

“Hey, Buddy. How was school?”

Stephen flattened his skirt and pulled the seat belt across his lap, clicking it into place. “Can you reach my backpack?  I’ll show you what we made today.” When Stiles handed him the bag, he opened it and pulled out a cardboard box covered in pink, red, and white hearts.

Stiles glanced in the rear view mirror at him just before he pulled out of the dismissal line at the school. “That looks nice.”

“Thanks.” Stephen smiled. “It’s my mailbox for Valentine’s Day.”

“Why did you bring it home?”

“So I can carry my valentines to school on Monday.” He stowed the box back in his backpack. “Can you help me with my valentines this weekend? Daddy could help too, but no glitter.”

Stiles laughed. “Sure thing,” he said as he continued the drive home, asking Stephen about things from homework, to other stuff he did in school that day.

As they walked in the house, Stephen went upstairs to change while Stiles dug out his construction paper supply, paper doilies, ribbon, and other notions. He set everything up on the table along with the decorative edge scissors and glue sticks. He pulled some carrot sticks and the peanut butter from the fridge as well as a juice box and made up an after school snack.

_Stiles, you are getting this step-parent thing down pat._ He scolded himself for wishful thinking. “Here you go, Buddy.” He set the snack on the table in front of Stephen. “So this is what I was thinking. We make envelopes with the paper. It’s really easy. Then we make little heart cards of different colored paper, maybe two or three each, and maybe different sizes. We use the ribbon and tie them together. Then maybe you can write something nice about each of your classmates on them. What do you think?”

Stephen wrinkled his brows in confusion. “I don’t…”

Stiles made up a quick example. “See?”

“I guess, but...can we make two special ones?”

“Sure. Did you have something in mind?” He asked grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge before sitting down to cut squares out of the paper and draw heart shaped cutting lines out for Stephen to follow.

“No, but I want to make a nice one for Amy, maybe with a treat or something.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. She is your best friend, and best friends get better treats. I’ll see what we can come up with for her. How about the other one?” He watched Stephen’s face turn pink. Oh ho.

Stephen stared down at his snack. “Maybe something with a kitty on it.”

“I think we can do that. Who is this one for?” To his surprise, Stephen giggled.

“It’s for Hava.”

“I see, and why does she get a special one?”

Stephen’s giggling continued. “Because I want her to be my girlfriend.”

“You what?” Derek asked, hanging up his coat on the hook by the door. After a lengthy conversation with his boss, he’d managed to negotiate working more hours the rest of the week in order to leave a couple hours earlier on Friday.

“Hi, Daddy. We’re making Valentines.”

“I see that.” He kissed the top of Stephen’s head first and gave Stiles a peck on the cheek. “What’s this about a girlfriend?”

“I’m gonna make a special card for Hava, because I want her to be my girlfriend.” He picked up the scissors and started cutting out paper hearts of different sizes on the various colors and patterned papers.

Stiles looked over at Derek who looked both confused and conflicted, as though he couldn’t understand how a child as young as Stephen could want a girlfriend but also that he didn’t want Stephen to grow up. Stiles caught his eye and gave a soft smile. “Why do you want her to be your girlfriend?”

“Because she’s pretty.”

“Is that all?”

“She has princess hair.”

Derek sat down with a pair of adult sized scissors and started to help cut out hearts. “I see, and what does princess hair look like?” He looked over to see his son’s eyes widen, his expression elated.

“Princesses have beautiful hair, Daddy, duh.”

“I kind of figured that, Buddy.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles trying to contain his laughter. The traitor; he was supposed to be on Derek’s side.

“Well Hava’s hair looks like a doll’s hair. It’s black like yours, but curly like Princess Merida’s, but prettier.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, and when we have music class...Hava is the best singer.” He sighed. “Her voice is so pretty, like Ariel’s. Plus, she’s a great speller. She gets all of the questions right all the time. So I want her to be my girlfriend, so I can hold her hand.”

Though he was thrilled his son was not just infatuated with one of his classmates’ looks alone, Derek struggled with how to respond. “Okay, but what if Hava doesn’t want to be your girlfriend?”

Stephen looked like the possibility had not even crossed his mind. “Then I...could make her want to be my girlfriend.”

Derek shook his head. “That’s not how it works, Stevie. You can’t make someone want to be your girlfriend or boyfriend.”

“Don't be silly, Daddy. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“That’s fine, but you still can’t make someone want something.”

Stephen stacked his paper hearts into piles sorted by size and color. “Why not?”

Derek shrugged, at a loss in how to make his answer age appropriate, looking to Stiles for help. “Well…”

Stiles, thank goodness, seemed prepared to answer. “Well, Stevie, people don’t like it when you force them to do something. You should always ask if they want to do something, like say you want to use the swings with Amy when we’re at the playground. What do you say?”

“Amy, let’s go play on the swings.”

“And what if she says she doesn’t want to swing? Do you try and make her swing?”

“No. I go swing by myself or maybe we do something else we both want to do.”

Stiles started punching holes in the heart cut-outs. “Why?”

“Because she’s my friend, and it would not be nice to make her swing when she didn’t want to.” His eyebrows rose like he finally understood the concept. “Oh. I get it. Trying to make Hava be my girlfriend would be like making Amy use the swings when she doesn’t want to.”

Derek mouthed a ‘thank you’ at Stiles who simply gave him a soft smile in return. “A little, yeah.” Was it an oversimplified explanation of consent? Absolutely, but come on. Stephen was six. “So, that being said, what do you do if Hava says no she doesn’t want to be your girlfriend?”

“Then I will be sad, but I will still be her friend, because she helps me with my spelling sometimes and lets me play foursquare with her. And I don’t want her to be sad because I wasn’t nice.”

Derek ruffled Stephen’s hair. “I think you’ll do just fine. So, tell me gentlemen, what are we doing with these hearts?”

 

 


	2. Bullies Suck, No Matter Their Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Chapter deals with homophobia, however no derogatory terms are used. Terms are alluded to, but never stated outright.

Derek watched Stiles shake a frankly, excessive amount of red pepper flakes onto his slice of pizza. How the man could eat food that spicy without getting heartburn was beyond him. If Derek had even half the amount of spice, he’d be...Oh dear Lord, he was old. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere in the last two years, he’d become old. What was next? Finding gray hair? He shuddered at the thought.

He took a drink of his iced tea and tried to think of something else. “How do you like your pizza, Stevie?”

“It’s good. Look, this has pineapple on it.” He plucked a piece from his slice to show him. “I didn’t know pizza could come with pineapple on it.”

Derek chuckled. After the trio spent the rest of the afternoon making making Stephen’s valentines, he’d suggested that they go out for dinner at the pizza buffet in town. His son was already on his second piece of pizza, and Stiles, don’t even get him started on Stiles. Where did he put all the food he ate? Derek was pretty sure the guy was on slice six, showing no signs of slowing down. He supposed Stiles had the Adderall to blame. Though it supposedly suppressed his appetite, apparently it sped up the man's metabolism as well.

From where he held it on the table, Stiles squeezed his hand. “So, I was thinking. My dad has to work on Valentine’s Day, and Melissa volunteered to babysit if we want to go out.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. Just got the text. I mean we couldn’t stay out late, because we have to work in the morning, but like maybe we make a nice dinner at home or something.”

Derek kissed Stiles’ knuckles. “Sounds great.” He stiffened his posture when he heard some people talking at a nearby table. Couldn’t people just keep their hateful opinions to themselves? He disliked loads of people: Bad drivers, people who block the entire aisle at the grocery store with their carts, indecisive people in the drive-thru, people who insist on paying with pennies when there is clearly enough cash in their wallets, liars, and people who were rude to cashiers and retail employees simply because they were retail employees. He just never said he hated them aloud.

Derek could see by Stiles’ expression, that he, too, had heard them. For crying out loud, he’d just kissed his boyfriend’s hand. It’s not like they were making out and dry humping at the table, and frankly, he didn’t want to see any couples doing that in the restaurant, regardless of gender. Wrong establishment for that.

Suddenly, even though it pained him to admit it, he felt glad that Stephen had chosen to wear jeans and a hoodie to dinner. Granted, the hoodie had purple sparkly skulls on it, and the purple beanie he wore covered up his hair. Derek was not ashamed of him, god no. He’d never, not once been ashamed of how his son chose to express his gender. He just, didn’t want poor Stephen to have hear some of the things being said at the next table directed at him. Still, because he preferred civility over outright confrontation (Where was Erica when he needed her), he sat and continued to eat his dinner in silence.

Stiles noticed Derek’s change in demeanor, and nope. He was not having their family night ruined by bigots. “You know what? I think I’ve changed my mind, Mój kochany. Let’s go out on Monday. I’ll see if I can find a reservation, and we’ll...do something fun. Just you watch. I have some ideas actually.” He did; that hadn’t been a lie. There was an art studio over by the college that had couples’ nights where you could book space in the class and create a piece of art with your date. On the off chance they could arrange a sitter, he’d gone ahead and reserved a space for the two of them.

Derek gave him a soft smile, though he found it harder and harder to ignore the comments behind him.

Stephen stretched the cheese in his mozzarella stick as far as it would go before he let it snap back towards his face, where he promptly slurped it up. “Hey, Daddy? Everyone needs to bring something to share with the class for our party on Monday. What should I bring?”

Derek scratched his forehead. "How about Valentine's Day colored Rice Krispy treats? We can use the heart shaped cookie cutter on them."

"Ooh, that sounds like fun. Can I help stir like last time?"

"Sure." He rubbed the top of Stephen's head, careful not to dislodge his hat, and he tried not to let his expression betray him when someone at that table remarked that, "isn't enough they demanded we let them marry? Did they have to subject children to that sinful lifestyle too?"

If by sinful they meant a loving and nurturing household, one built on respect for everyone living under the same roof,  then he was guilty as charged. Somehow, he didn't think that's what they had in mind.

His attempt to hide his feelings on the matter, however was futile, because he watched Stephen's face fall.

"You don't want me to help?"

"No, of course I do."

"Then why do you look so sad,  Daddy?"

"Do you remember when we talked about The Thumper Rule?"

"Yes. If you can't say something nice,  don't say anything at all."

"Right, and do you remember how I explained how it's okay to disagree with someone, but be polite?"

"Mrs. Chen calls it being civil."

"Right. That works too. Well I'm sad because someone is saying something that’s not very nice, and it's hurting my feelings. Stiles' too."

"If someone hurts your feelings you're supposed to say something to them."

He sighed. Without looking, he could with certainty, tell the table was filled with mostly men, and given how many times their server had brought another round, several of them were at least a little intoxicated. That was a confrontation he just didn’t want to subject Stephen, Stiles, or hell, anyone else in the restaurant to. "I know, but I'm going to tell you the truth here, Stevie. Sometimes it's not always that easy or safe." He looked over at Stiles as a particularly hateful slur was said, loudly at that. He watched his boyfriend drop his gaze to his plate, grinding his teeth to keep from saying anything. He knew Stiles had heard the word directed at him more than he ever would, one of the perks of being bisexual as opposed to gay, he guessed.

Stephen’s eyes widened, and he covered his mouth. "Daddy? Is that why you're sad? You said that word was really mean. And people shouldn't say it."

He said nothing, only nodded. "I'm going to get another piece of pizza. Do you want to come too?" Honestly, he just wanted to get his child's impressionable ears away from the vulgar language.

As they picked out their next selections, Stephen opting for pudding instead of more pizza, he tried to let the words roll off his back, to no avail. Especially since they'd left poor Stiles at the table by himself.

"Why would someone say that to you? Don't they like you and Stiles?"

Derek set his plate on the buffet and knelt down to Stephen’s level. "Some people don't like it when boys are with boys, or girls with girls. Some boys like boys and girls, a-"

"Like you?"

"Yes, like me. And some girls like boys and girls. It's more complicated than that. It takes a while to explain, and I don't think you're quite old enough for that conversation, but I promise you, when I think you are, we’ll talk about it more okay?” Stephen nodded. “Anyway, some people think boys should only be with girls, girls with boys." He placed a slice of margherita on his plate.

"But why? Why don't they like it?"

"I don't know about everyone, but sometimes it's about the Bible or religion. They believe the Bible is against it." He sighed. At one point, he'd been religious, rather his family had been. Once they died, he no longer felt the pull. Stephen had tagged along to Sunday school with Amy a couple times, so he knew his son had an idea of what he meant.

"That doesn't make sense, Daddy. The Bible says Jesus loves me, he loves you, he loves everybody. Why would Jesus be mad about people loving each other? Wouldn't he want people to be happy so long as they were good and not bad guys? And you're a good guy. You help Mrs. Walters mow her grass, and make sure to ask her if she needs anything when you go to the grocery store. Stiles helps kids feel better every day. He helps me do crafts. Why would someone be mean? "

Leave it to a child to sum it up so simply.

"Daddy, they said mean things about you. That's bullying. You said so."

"I know I did." He saw a woman at the soda fountain give him a sympathetic smile, one he returned with a small nod.

"But, Daddy, why?  I don't understand."

"And I don't really either. Can I think about it for a little while before I answer back?" When Stephen nodded, they went back to their table. Derek's patience ran out when he saw the men outright harassing Stiles. He could see the tension in his boyfriend's shoulders and knew Stiles was close to his breaking point.  As he was about to finally say something, he noticed the father at the table behind Stiles get up and walk to the cashier, a grim expression on his face. _Here it comes, the I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Your kind are not welcome in this establishment._ He tried not groan as he prepared himself for inevitable ejection. It wouldn't be the first time.

Still, he figured until management came over, they could continue eating.

"You just sat there and took it, bet you like that in bed too. You look like a-"

Derek turned around to tell them off just in time to see the manager approaching. However, instead of stopping at their table, he stopped at the table of men behind them.

"Excuse me. I have received several complaints regarding-"

"Good, throw them out. Their kind disgusts me." One of the more inebriated men laughed, the derision in his voice more than apparent.

"Actually, all the complaints were about your table. We do not tolerate that kind of language in this restaurant. I'd like you all to leave."

"You're throwing us out when they are flaunting their disgusting lifestyle in our faces!"

Another patron spoke up. "Yes, because asking a small child to help make Valentine's Day colored Rice Krispy treats is way more offensive than the vulgar language you're using. I see a nice, loving family trying to enjoy dinner."

"They're sinners who will all burn in hell!"

Before Derek could stop him, Stephen stood up.  "You make Jesus sad!  My daddies are good, and they help people. What do you do 'cept hurt people's feelings? You are not good people!" Stephen sat down with a huff.

It didn't take long after that for things to quiet down. Unfortunately, that also included Stiles, who hadn't said a word since Derek and Stephen returned to the table. "Hey," Derek said, taking his hand, "you okay?"

He shook his head. "I wanna go home,  D."

"Okay." Within a few minutes, they sat in the car, before leaving the parking lot. Derek reached over and squeezed Stiles' knee. "Hey, we're okay."

Stiles wiped his eyes. "That's not the first time that's happened to me. At least this time I didn't get my ass kicked."

Derek hadn’t known about that, but he figured it probably wasn’t something Stiles liked to talk about. "Hey, Stevie, so you asked why they were mean. The simple and most correct answer, is because we're different, and they're bullies. It's the same thing as you and Joey Franklin."

"Oh." Satisfied with his answer,  Stephen sat back and stared out the window as Derek drove home.

Neither man brought up the elephant in the room. Stephen had referred to both of them as his dads. The conversation would need to be had sooner rather than later.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mój kochany is my love in Polish  
> 


	3. Date Night Is the Perfect Time to Have This Conversation

Stephen walked around his classroom sticking a valentine in everyone's box. He hoped the nice things he wrote on each one made his classmates happy. It had been fun making the cards with his dad and Stiles, and he thought his looked a lot better than the valentines he saw in the store, but he would never say anything. "Here you go, Greg." He said, slipping the card into Greg's mailbox.

After passing out all his cards, he shuffled back to his desk to wait. Their actual party would start in ten minutes, and that’s when they could open their valentines. Also, his dad signed up to be one of the class parents for the party. Minutes ticked by so slowly as he watched the clock. It was never going to be two-thirty.

Tick

Tick

Tick

Tick

It was taking forever. Like for real forever and not pretend forever. Finally, when he thought he was going to die waiting, Stephen looked up and saw his dad walk through the door. “Hi, Daddy.” He waved, patting the chair that had been set up next to his desk. “You get to sit next to me.”

Derek set the plate of Rice Krispy treats on the large table in the front of the room and took a seat next to his son. “How was your day?”

“I had lots of fun in music class today.” Stephen’s legs swung back and forth in excitement.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. I got to play the cabinets.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “The cabinets?”

“Yeah you wear them on your fingers and go, click, click, click.” He brought his index and middle finger to meet his thumb, then repeated the action a few times.

“Castanets?”

“Yeah, the cas-ta-nets. Then we played bongos. It was neat. We are learning all about percussion instruments. We have flashcards to study, because we will have a little quiz next week. Not a big one. A little one.”

“I see. You’re right. That does sound like lots of fun.”

“Oh, let me show you.” Stephen pulled out a folder from inside his desk, taking out a paper to show his dad. “Look, I got all my spelling words right!”

Derek tousled his hair. “Good job, Buddy.”

Mrs. Chen walked to the front of the class. “Okay, now that the parent helpers are all here, we can get started on our party. First, can we say thank you to Kari and Madelyn’s moms and Stephen’s dad for helping us?" The students chimed in a chorus of thank yous before she could continue.  "Okay, now that you've passed out your valentines, if we could get the parents up here to help with treats."

Derek was put on drink pouring duty. Gallon sized jug of juice in hand, he began to fill little plastic cups, placing them within reach of small hands. After a few minutes, he noticed Stephen standing beside him. "Hey."

"Do you need any help?"

"No, I think I got it. You should sit down and eat your treats."

"I got some for you too. Mrs.  Chen went to get coffee for the parents. Don't worry, I told her how you like your coffee."

"Did you now? And how do I like my coffee?"

"With a lot of sugar."

He laughed,  knowing his son was correct. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a little girl with dark ringlets walk over to Stephen's desk and slip a piece of folded paper into his mailbox. "Hey, Stevie how about you go eat your snack and open your cards?  I'm just about done. Can I have the chocolate cupcake?"

"Can we, please share?"

"I guess so,  but only because you asked so nicely."

By the time he sat down at Stephen's desk, a small pile of valentines sat next to the mailbox while the boy continued to open them. He watched the piece of notebook paper come out next, and studied his son's expression. After a beat, a slight pink flush spread across the bridge of his nose and into his cheeks. "Good card?"

"The best." Stephen showed him the paper and leaned over to whisper, "Hava wants be my girlfriend too."

When he sat back down, he was beaming. Derek patted his back, but felt a twinge of sadness. Why couldn't his little boy stay little forever?

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

The inside of the art studio was filled with quite a few more people than Stiles anticipated, and he was suddenly glad he’d reserved a space. At the front counter, he smiled at the clerk. “Hi. I have a reservation for two under Stilinski.” He watched her run her finger down the sheet, tapping over his name.

“Ah ha. Come on. I’ll show you to your station.”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, dragging him into the studio. “Oh come on. I am not going to make fun of you if all you manage to paint is a freaking tree. I just want you to have fun. Besides, there is no glitter.”

Derek laughed. “Well tree might be an overestimate. How about a stick figure holding a sign that says tree?”

Stiles gave him a playful shove in the shoulder.

“Smocks are on the back wall grouped by color of cuff. Adult sizes are on the left. Yellow is small, blue medium, green large, and red is XL. The paints and brushes are behind me. What size canvas do you want?”

Derek stared at her, eyes blinking without a hint of direction. “Um…”

“How about you start with an 11x14? That’s our smallest. It will give you enough space to work with but won’t overwhelm you.” He nodded. “And for you?”

Stiles looked up as he thought, clearly doing the math. “I’ll take a 24x30 if you have it.”

“Sure do.” She left them alone to retrieve their canvasses.

Once again, Stiles took Derek’s hand, pulling him to where the smocks hung from pegs on the wall. He first went for the blue ones, but found they were a bit snug. Oh well, his would just have to be a bit baggy. On the other hand, poor Derek’s extra large was too small.

“It doesn’t fit my arms.”

Stiles looked through the protectors until he found an apron. “Wear this,” he said, slipping it over Derek’s neck and tying the strings behind him. For good measure, he placed a kiss to the exposed skin at the back of Derek’s neck. “Don’t forget to roll up your sleeves.”

Once they’d picked out their paints, Stiles helping Derek to build an effective palette, they went to work. About fifteen minutes later, he looked over to see Derek staring at his canvas in disgust. “What’s wrong, Słoneczko?”

“This looks terrible. I am not meant to do art, Stiles.”

He walked around Derek’s easel and stared. “What are you...were you seriously trying to paint a tree?”

“Seemed easy enough.”

Stiles couldn’t miss the disappointment on his face. “You’re not having any fun are you?” Well damn. He really thought this would be an unconventional Valentine’s Day date idea. “I just thought it would be different. I can hurry and finish if you want to-”

Derek stopped him with a kiss to his temple. “No, it’s fun. I’m just so bad at this.”

“Maybe you’re not meant to paint realism. Be less literal with your tree.”

“That,” he said, tapping a paint brush against Stiles’ cheek, leaving behind a green dot of acrylic, “sounds like art nerd talk.”

Stiles thought about wiping off the paint, but decided against it. “Well you forget I did double major in psych and art.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me see yours.” When Derek tried to peek around his boyfriend’s easel, Stiles leveled him with a pointed glare. “What? You’re not painting me are you?”

“Ha! I would not even consider portraiture in this short time span. If you want me to paint you, one, you’ll need to hold still for a long time, and two, this isn’t the setting I’d pick.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him and sat down on his stool. “You could do that? Paint someone? I’ve never seen you do that.”

“You know, I can’t believe I’ve never shown you my portfolio.” He winced. “I’ll pull it out of the basement tomorrow.” They went back to their respective work, Stiles filling his canvas with blacks, dark blues, and purples, a bit of evergreen along the bottom. A glance up at the clock told him they were running down on time, so he walked over to the wall to select the perfect shade of yellow to mix with the cream colored paint on his palette.

When he was finished, he stepped back to admire his work. Not bad for two hours of paint time. Some day, he’d like to take an easel and his paints out there at night to really capture it perfectly. This, however, was a good start.

“This...is beautiful, Stiles.” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist. “It’s the cliff in the Preserve isn’t it? That overlooks the city?

“Yeah.”

“Makes my tree look like shit.”

Stiles patted Derek’s hand against his stomach. “Doesn’t matter so long as you had a good time.”

They slid their work into drying racks to be picked up within the next couple of days. Once they’d paid for their session and canvasses, Derek turned to Stiles. “Anything else planned for the evening?”

Stiles shrugged. “Not really.”

“Well, it’s nice out. You want to take a walk down Main Street?”

“Sure”

Derek smiled. “Maybe stop and get hot chocolate from Dinah’s?”

"You know me so well, D."

 

*   *   *   *   *

  


Stiles swung their arms between them as they walked. “I got one. What is your dream job? And don’t say you’re working it, because I know better.”

They’d been firing off questions back and forth for about twenty minutes now. Some, like the one Stiles just asked were of the ‘I can’t believe we didn’t discuss this earlier in our relationship’ variety, while others were more of the ‘Oh my god, where in the hell did that question come from” type (See: ‘If you had to build a fifty foot statue entirely out of cheese, which variety would you pick?’).

“Professional basketball player I guess. You?”

“Batman. Definitely, I’d be Batman.”

Derek laughed and pulled him in close. “You’re ridiculous. Number one place you’d like to visit before you die?”

Stiles scratched his chin. “Huh. I think it would have to be to take the Middle Earth tour. That would be pretty sweet, no wait. I want to visit the Louvre and the Prado. I’ve wanted to go there since I was a little kid, but right now, I’d settle for a trip to New York to visit the Met. Never been to New York, and it just seems easier to achieve.”

Derek filed those pieces of information away for later.

“How about you?”

“I’d love to see the Coliseum.” He pulled Stiles into the diner to get a couple hot chocolates to go before they started their trip back to the car.

“Yeah, that would be neat to see too. Can I be honest? I don’t even have a passport. I’ve only been outside California a handful of times. Most of them to visit my grandparents in Boston. Not sure why that never included a side trip to New York.”

“I’ve only been outside the country twice. Once to London. My mom wanted that for her fiftieth. The other was to Mexico. So not really that far.”

Stiles took a sip from his cup. “So, let’s see… Oh wow, I should have asked this one. Actually, either one of us should have at one point. Did you ever think about having more than one kid?”

“Huh, I never gave it much thought, to be honest. I just sort of...well Stevie took up all my time, and I didn’t date. So I just rolled with it, but I guess, now that you mention it, yeah I do. How about you? Did you want kids, or how many?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely. Growing up as an only child, I always wanted siblings. It just seemed unfair that I didn’t have any. I mean, now I have Scott, but you know. Yeah, I want kids, two or three, in the future.”

Derek winced as the hot chocolate burned his mouth. “That’s too hot. Would you want to adopt or have one of your own?”

“The noble part of me,” Stiles licked his lips, “wants to say adopt, because there are so many kids that need homes, but it has to be cool to look down at your child and think ‘Wow, you so got that from me.’ It is, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek gave him a wistful smile, “unless that something are brows of doom. Poor kid.”

“Hey now, your eyebrow game is strong. I’d just like for any kid I have to not inherit my complexion. It’s been a pain so far.”

Derek snaked an arm around Stiles’ waist and pulled him against his side as they walked, kissing his temple. “I am sure they’d be adorable.”

“Did we...did we just have the ‘kid’ conversation?”

“Pretty sure we did.”

“Huh, way less scary than people make it out to be.” He dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder.

“Well, I already have a kid. So if I never wanted kids, I failed in that respect, and you didn’t run screaming at that fact I do. I just never knew if you wanted your own, or just really liked them. Knowing that you do, means that some day, hopefully, we’ll revisit this conversation, and an ‘I’m ready’ would be thrown in there.”

Stiles looked over at him and blushed. “Thinking about kids with me?”

“Well I wasn’t until we started talking about it, and obviously I don’t mean right now, but yeah.”

Stiles’ blush grew in intensity. “Planning ahead are you?”

“We live together, and I wouldn’t have asked you to move in with me if I didn’t see us going somewhere. You wouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t either. I just started thinking about it; I have no timeline.” He gave Stiles’ side a little squeeze. “I think this is what people mean when they say this conversation is scary.”

Stiles gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He rubbed his forehead. “I wasn’t panicking about us, if that’s what you were wondering. It was just a moment of ‘Wow, I am in a serious relationship.’ I think…” He turned inward into Derek’s chest, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck so he could look him in the eye. “I’d like that too. Just, give it several years. Stevie is great, but he’s six. I am in no way prepared for an infant, but yeah, I'd like that with you.”

Derek let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “For a minute there, you had me worried.” He kissed Stiles’ forehead. “Along those lines, if at some point, I ask if you want to adopt Stevie, is that something you’d want?”

Stiles mulled it over in his mind for a second. “Is this because of what he said on Friday at dinner?” In all fairness, the thought had been circling in his brain for three days..

Derek nodded. “If he already thinks of you that way, and he asks me about it, I have to know what to tell him.”

“Well,” Stiles licked his lips again, “as it stands, the status of our relationship would have to change for that option to be available, but, if he wants to call me something along those lines, then...I’m on board.”

Derek looked at him with a sense of awe, although he probably looked like a deer in the headlights. How did he manage to find someone like Stiles?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Słoneczko means sunshine in Polish- used as term of endearment


	4. I Swear I Need to Buy A HazMat Suit

“I’m finished.”

Stiles pulled up a chair to the low table at which his patient sat. Well to be honest, she was his post education supervisor's patient. Still, Dr. Natalie Martin had been taking a hands off approach to his foray into the therapy world. At her practice over in nearby Chico, she’d eased Stiles into his entry level art therapist role. Since he needed fifteen hundred hours of supervision before he could take his certification test, he had to start at the bottom. He didn’t care; thirty grand was a hell of a lot better than the ten or so he made each year in college.

Before each appointment, they would plan out his activity, with mostly her letting him decide the agenda. During the sessions, she sat in the large armchair in the corner observing. Though she said she’d step in if she needed to, she hadn’t done so yet. To be honest, it helped give Stiles confidence. Afterwards, they debriefed and she gave him any pointers she could and helped him with his session notes.

When he looked at Michaela’s picture, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. This wasn’t the first session he’d had with her; he knew why she was in therapy, but they’d been going slowly, and so far her pictures had been incoherent, more abstract. Yeah, he could see based on the color choices that she was struggling, but this one was different.

She coughed again for about the fiftieth time so far and set down her crayon.

“Hey, Michaela, can we talk about why this picture is different than the other ones you’ve made?” Once more, he took in the obvious depiction of her best friend’s death. He remembered the story; he’d seen it on the news. Hell, the Sheriff’s office had been called to consult. His dad had sent Parrish over to work the domestic disturbance, which resulted in a double homicide. One, the wife of the shooter, the other, a nine year old girl killed by stray bullet while she played in her front yard with Michaela.

“I had a dream about Kara last night. Well, it was a nightmare. It looked like this.”

Up until this point, Michaela had insisted she hadn’t seen anything, only turned around to see Kara bleeding to death on the ground. Clearly, she’d been keeping inside the fact she witnessed everything. Her skill at drawing would be shockingly good if done under different circumstances. “Is this what you saw in your dream?”

“Well and when it happened. She picked up the ball and was about to throw it to me. She was standing, and then she wasn’t, and there was blood everywhere. I… didn’t know what to do.” Michaela was crying now.

Stiles passed the box of tissues to her. “This is good that you’re talking about it. I know it hurts. Losing someone you care about hurts, but it won’t help you to keep it inside.”

She nodded and kept talking about what she’d seen, and Stiles was glad Dr. Martin used a recorder to help him learn from his sessions, because this one was going to stick with him. Before he realized it, the session was over. “This was good, Michaela. Good that you talked about it with me. Next time, we’ll try something different, okay?”

She nodded and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. The girl had gone through a lot of tissue the last hour and had been coughing a lot. He was going to need a hose to decontaminate the place. He settled for Lysol wipes, trying to remember everything she’d touched. He’d caught two colds since he started working there almost two months ago. He did not want another one. Oh well--Occupational hazard.

For Stephen’s birthday, they were going to San Francisco to see _Matilda_ on stage and go to the aquarium. He did not want to be sick next weekend; they’d been looking forward to the mini-trip away for months. It was Wednesday, and they were leaving Friday morning the following week. Maybe he’d have time to get over the cold in time. _Please don’t let me get sick._

Natalie sat down with him, and they went over their notes. “I think maybe the next couple of sessions with Michaela, I’ll actually work with you. If she gets called as a witness, it will look better that I engage in the sessions with her.”

“Did I do okay with that?”

“Yeah, but well, you know how lawyers are. Lydia’s father-in-law is one, and I just do not like that man.” She said of her daughter's husband.

“The D.A? Yeah I never liked him either.” He laughed and grabbed his coat. “Well, see you tomorrow Dr. Martin.”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Dozens of bundles of silk flowers lay scattered  on the kitchen table when Derek got home Tuesday evening. Stiles, Melissa, and Kira sat in the dining room assembling bouquets and what he assumed to be other wedding related projects. Fuck if he knew. Stephen did not seem to be even remotely interesting in helping with flowers, instead choosing to color at the coffee table while watching _Spongebob_. Frankly, that sounded like a lot more fun to him too. “Hey, Buddy. How was your day?”

He shrugged. “It was okay. Today, we had Spanish. I don’t want to learn Spanish.”

“No?” Derek asked, sitting down on the floor next to him. He grabbed the coloring book and tore out a page so he could color alongside his son. “What language do you want to learn?” It was a question, he probably already knew the answer to.

Stephen traded his brown crayon for a yellow one. “Polish, duh. That was an easy question.”

“Well,” he said, coloring in the tail of a cartoon dinosaur, “that’s not a language most schools teach. Spanish is useful. I know Spanish.”

“I know, but…”

Derek started shading in the leaves of the trees. “Did you see if Stiles would teach you Polish? I’m sure he would if you asked him. He’d probably be really happy to do that with you. You could even surprise Aggie at the wedding.”

Stephen’s eyes lit up. “You think so? What a good idea, Daddy.” He jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

Derek laughed, his knees cracking as he stood. Wow, he really was getting old. It seemed like thirty happened and then...well he got old.

“Can you, can you, can you. Pretty please, can you teach me. Please, Stiles.”

Derek came in the kitchen to see Stephen jumping up and down. “That is not what I meant, Stevie.” He leaned in to give Stiles a kiss, but his boyfriend waved him off. “Still feeling sick?” _Why did I ask? Of course he is. He was sick this morning, so it stands to reason, he’d still be feeling ill tonight._

“This cold is never going to go away.”

He settled for a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head. “Babe, it hasn’t even been a week. You still have a few days before our trip. Maybe you should stay home tomorrow.”

“Already called off. But, I don’t feel any better. If anything I feel worse.” Stiles coughed into his elbow. “Ugh. Sure, Stevie, I can start teaching you Polish.” He stood and rummaged through the cabinet above the sink where they kept medication (What? Bathroom temperatures were not the best for storing medicine. Ask anyone). Fuck, his head was pounding. He promised he’d help get the bulk of the flower work done, but to be honest, he didn’t know how much longer he could stay awake. He would also feel really terrible if poor Kira got sick because of him. All the good meds were off limits to her for the time being.

“Something I can help you find?” Derek asked.

“What? I am perfectly capable of-"

“I know you are, but” he said picking up one of the take-out containers off the counter, “this one for me?” When Melissa told him he could have whatever he wanted out of what was left, he dug in. “Anyway, you’ve just been staring in the cabinet for three minutes now. Thought you might not be finding what you’re looking for.”

Stiles coughed again. “I think we’re out of Mucinex. Chest colds are the worst. Nasal congestion? Can totally deal with that. Gross phlegmy cough--yeah no.”

“How about you go take a hot shower? I will run up to the store and get you medicine. Anything else you need? Cough drops?”

Stiles rubbed his temples. “Do we have a heating pad?”

“Yeah. It’s in the linen closet. Top shelf.” Derek tapped Stephen on the shoulder. “You want to come too?”

Stephen nodded and put on his shoes, while Stiles sat down to continue working on the flowers. Derek came over and took them out of his hands. “No, upstairs. You are relieved of duty, soldier.”

Stiles grumbled under his breath about prior commitments, but this time Melissa stopped him. “Sweetie, we have a month to finish the flowers. Derek’s right. Go take care of yourself.” She pushed him towards the stairs.

“Fine, you win. I’m sorry if you get a cold, Kira. I really thought I’d be over this by now.”

“I’m on tons of vitamins, plus I got my flu shot. I think you’re fine.”

“Even still.” He climbed the stairs while the rest of his family boxed up the flowers for his dad and Melissa’s wedding at the end of March.

He turned the water on as hot as he could stand, letting the steam build up in the bathroom when he’d otherwise have the exhaust on. If he felt this badly today, he knew he’d be miserable for their vacation. Son of a bitch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I handled the beginning scene well- I am not a therapist or psychologist. Please let me know if I majorly screwed something up in there.


	5. And I Was So Looking Forward to It

Stiles rolled over Friday morning and felt like death. With his head pounding and chills wracking his body, he hurt everywhere. He peered down into the trashcan at the mountain of tissue he’d been hacking into all night, not like it had done any good. Poor Derek, he’d coughed the man out of bed.

Each step into the bathroom felt like agony. It seemed like the simple act of moving had awoken the mucus in his chest, sending him into a coughing fit, one that pretty much knocked him on his ass on the bathroom tile. He’d coughed so much in the last three days his sternum hurt. To make matters worse, his headache made him nauseated, and he emptied his stomach into the toilet. Great, just great. Well, he wasn’t going to get to go this weekend.

Knuckles rapped on the door. “You okay, Stiles?”

“I don’t think I should go with you this weekend.” He fumbled with the doorknob above him, to let Derek in.

Derek, already showered and dressed for the day, took one look at him and agreed. “Aww Babe, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Take Erica or something. I intend to just lie in bed and recover or maybe just stay here on this nice cool tile.” He patted the floor beside him. “Clearly, my immune system and kids’ germs do not get along.” He stumbled as he stood, weakened by coughing and the lack of food in his stomach. Derek managed to catch him before he fell, but only just.

“You’re warm. I think you have a fever.” Derek grabbed the thermometer, slipped a cover onto the probe and helped Stiles back into bed. “Open up,” he said, sticking it under Stiles’ tongue. “You want some toast and some chamomile?”

Stiles gave him a weary smile and snuggled back under the covers. When the thermometer beeped a little bit later, he took a look. _102.4, ugh shoot me._ He closed his eyes, opening them several minutes later when Derek returned.

“Well?” Derek asked, helping him to sit up so he could adjust the pillows behind him.

“A bit of a fever. I’ll try an make an appointment to be seen today, but Monday definitely.” He took a few bites of the toast and set the plate on the nightstand.

“I dropped a couple ice cubes in your tea and tested it; should be fine to drink right away.” He tied off the trash bag and set it outside the bedroom, only to replace it with a new one. “I have some Gatorade in one of the cabinets. It’s not cold, but I’ll bring it upstairs for you before we leave.” He sat next to Stiles on the bed and moved the hair out of his eyes. “I’m sad you can’t come; it was going to be fun.”

“You and Stevie will have fun even if I’m not there.”

“I know,” he said, kissing Stiles’ temple, his skin burning against Derek’s lips, “but we still want you there anyway. I packed last night while you were sleeping. So we’ll be out of here soon, and it will be nice and quiet for you. Do you want me to call Melissa and have her come check on you?”

“Honestly, this is very sweet of you, but I just need rest and fluids.” He smiled. “But you are a saint for caring.”

Derek gave him another kiss. “Feel better, okay? I love you.”

“Love you too.” Stiles gave his hand a squeeze. After a few more bites and a long drink of tea, he closed his eyes again. He didn’t even hear Derek and Stephen leave, only waking a few hours later to find them gone. Next to him on the bed, Derek had set the remote and some of his favorite movies as well as the iPad, on top of which was a sticky note that read:

 

_Face time later, after we get back from the show? I’ll text you when we arrive._

 

He mustered a weak smile and finished off his toast and tea, even if the beverage had long since grown cold. On shaky legs, he rose of the bed, stuck in The Dark Knight and curled back up in bed. Just to be safe, he checked his temperature again to find it holding steady at where it had been earlier. Well, at least it hadn’t grown worse.

He only made it through half an hour of the movie before falling back asleep.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

“Did you like the show, Buddy?” Derek asked as he stood to stretch his legs.

“It was so cool!”

“Oh yeah?” Derek grabbed Stephen’s hand to make sure they didn’t get separated. “What was your favorite part?”

“When the kids were on the swings! That was awesome!” Stephen could not contain his excitement as they walked from the theatre back to their hotel. "And I liked the P.E. song."

Derek clung tightly to his son’s hand. “That part was pretty neat.”

“Too bad Stiles couldn’t come, or Auntie Erica.” He said, a little glum at the fact that his dad couldn’t find anyone who could come along and use the extra ticket. “That’s no fun.”

“What do you say we get Stiles a present from the aquarium tomorrow?”

“Good idea, Daddy. That’ll make him feel better. I know it will.”

They filled the fifteen minute walk to the hotel with talk about the trip so far, which was mostly Stephen gushing about how much he liked the show. As tiring as parenthood could be at times, he lived for moments like this, with Stephen’s never-ending exuberance for things he found interesting. He wished often, that he shared the same passion for little things that his son did. It was a work in progress, and he was trying.

Stephen, still wired with energy, ran into the hotel room and flopped onto his bed, where he proceeded to jump on it with gusto.

“Shoes off, Mister.”

He jumped quite high and let himself land like a starfish on the bed so he could take off his shoes. His dad never let him jump on the bed at home, and so he resumed his game.

“Stevie, what have I said about jumping on your bed?”

Without ceasing his bounding, Stephen huffed, “You said not to.”

“Uh huh, and why are you doing it now?”

“Because,” he giggled, “s’not my bed. I’m borrowing it.”

“Well,” Derek said, snagging his son around the waist, mid-bounce, “do you color in your library books?”

“No.”

“Then why is it okay to jump on this bed?” He set Stephen on the ground. “Go get changed for bed.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Stephen rolled his eyes, grumbling all the way to the bathroom.

By the time he returned, Derek had already stripped down to his a-shirt and donned a pair of pajama pants. He plugged in his phone. “You want to sit by me while I call Stiles? We can Facetime.”

Stephen’s irritation at not being allowed to jump on the bed vanished. “Okay.” He curled up beside his dad.

It took a couple tries to connect the call, but eventually, Stiles’ face came into view. “Sorry,” he said weakly. “Was asleep.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a bus. They didn’t have an appointment until Monday morning. So I guess, I will be suffering until then.”

Derek drew his brows together at the scene on the screen. Stiles looked like he hadn’t really slept in days, and to be fair, Derek knew he hadn’t. No one who coughed that much at night was getting any sleep. His eyes had dark shadows underneath them, and his skin, though pale looked flushed. “Still got a fever?”

Stiles looked at him, confusion etched on his face. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Fever? Do you still have one?”

“What? Oh yeah. About the same or so. Fluctuates a bit, but has stayed about the same.”

Stiles held up a finger to ask for a minute, and he left the frame, walking, Derek presumed, to the bathroom. Derek cringed when he heard what could only be described as hacking up a lung. Several minutes later, he returned, skin looking pale and clammy.

“You should try the Fix Fable Rub.” Stephen said. “It always makes me feel better, even if it’s really stinky.”

It clearly took Stiles a second to figure out what he’d meant. “Oh, Vick’s? Yeah I will keep that in mind. How is your birthday weekend so far?”

“It’s been loads of fun, and tomorrow I am going to see like a million sharks! Maybe I’ll even see one eat a seal!”

“I’m sure if you do, Buddy, it will be way more horrific than you think it will.” Stiles joked with a wheeze. “Night, Stevie. Love you and have fun tomorrow”

“Love you too. Night, night, Stiles. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” Stephen gave the phone back to his dad.

“Do me a favor and get someone to take you to urgent care tomorrow. That cough sounds terrible.”

“It’s a cold, Derek. What are they going to do? Give me some I.V. fluids and send me home?”

Derek frowned. Always so stubborn. “Well, it’s been over a week now, and you don’t feel any better.”

Stiles bundled up in the blankets. “I will have Scott come bring me soup tomorrow. How’s that?”

It was not the answer he was looking for, but Derek figured it was the best he was going to get. “Good. Maybe he can convince you to go in.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Such a mother hen, Derek.” He smiled, and it looked like he was about to fall asleep.

“Love you too, Stiles.”

Stiles, the cheesy dork that he was, blew a kiss at the screen and ended the call. Derek wished he could say he felt anything besides anxious about the whole thing.

 

 


	6. Designated Support Person

Coughing so hard he thought he’d break a rib any minute, Stiles awoke, at the bright and early time of fuck if he knew...afternoon-ish, sheets and his clothes drenched in sweat. For a brief moment, he wanted to celebrate thinking the fever had broken, but no, he could not be so lucky. Instead of breaking, the fever had just climbed a higher. 

He couldn’t think straight for all the pain in his head. It was like a dehydration headache, but worse. Besides, he’d been keeping up with the fluids, even if venturing downstairs had been hazardous as he wavered on the steps. Though, he supposed being unable to keep food down and throwing up multiple times did not, in any way help his headache. The pain had actually made him delirious, or maybe that was the fever. He had one of those right?

Sometime around four in the morning, he’d woken up, if he could really call what he’d been doing sleeping, coughing so hard he puked. Changing the sheets had been a forty-five minute ordeal--no really, he was that exhausted. For the rest of the night and now, apparently, most of the day, he’d rested as best he could, slightly propped up by pillows. It helped a little, because breathing while lying down was damn near impossible. It only exacerbated the coughing, made him feel like he was drowning.

Standing, he made his way to the bathroom, shaking so hard he could barely walk. Why the hell did a fever need to be accompanied by chills? He almost fell down three times in the short distance to the shower.  If he could simply get a good breath in without coughing, he was positive he'd feel loads better. But he just...couldn't.

He crashed into the bathroom, awkwardly shedding his clothes, and crawled into the tub, No energy to remain standing, he sat down in the tub and let the hot water rain down on him from above. The steam, although it helped to quiet his barking cough, did little to alleviate the wheezing. Okay, so maybe Derek had been right; he would call Scott as soon as he was finished.

Stiles stayed under the spray for as long as possible, only climbing out when the water grew cold. As he tried to stand, he felt dizzy, his head spinning. Where the hell was he going again? What was he about to do? His legs felt like lead, so much so that he crawled back to bed, grabbing, from the hamper, the first pair of pajama pants (Inside out and backwards) he found. Maybe he needed food, but for the life of him, he could not remember when last he ate. Somehow, he managed to pull himself to stand. He probably looked ridiculous, a bit like Bambi learning to walk. Yeah so not his concern at the moment, because his body chose that moment to pass out, face first and sideways across the mattress.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Scott’s phone rang in his jacket pocket, however, since Stiles was sick, he’d been roped into helping with wedding decorations and didn’t hear it. Why couldn’t they just wait until Stiles felt better? Scott’s attempt at flowers and favors was paltry at best.

“Mom, are you sure you want me helping with these? Look,” he held up a corsage, wait those were for women….what the hell had she called the ones the men wore on their lapels, “these look terrible.”

Melissa kissed his forehead. “They look fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” Kira looked like she was deep in thought for a moment and then shrieked. Scott was over at her side in an instant. “What? You okay?”

“I’m fine. I think… I think I felt the baby kick. Come here.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Wait for it. It was subtle.”

They both sat there, neither one making a sound until a light thump reverberated against her abdomen. “Was that it?” Scott asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah.”

"That’s so cool.” All three of them took turns trying to feel kicks until Scott’s phone rang again. By the time he made it to his coat, the caller had hung up. Derek? Why was he calling him...three times? He didn’t have time to respond, because Kira’s phone started ringing. Scott dug it out of her purse, and sure enough, it was Derek too. “Hello?”

“Scott? Oh thank God. Can you please go check on Stiles? He hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls today, and I’m worried about him.”

“Relax. He’s probably sleeping.”

“Please, Scott? I’ll buy you and Kira dinner if you go check on him, and quite possibly force him to go to urgent care.”

“Why does he need to go to urgent care?” Scott scratched his brow. Stiles had filled him in on Derek’s occasional overreaction/over-protectiveness, but that was usually regarding Stephen. Not once had he seemed this worried about Stiles.

“He’s been sick all week, and he just sounded terrible when he was coughing. I just, have a bad feeling. Please? If you can’t, can you ask your mom or John? I will not only buy you dinner, but throw in a six pack too.”

“Okay. I’ll head over there in a couple minutes. I’m sure he’s just asleep.”

“I hope so. Thanks, Scott.”

“No problem.” As he hung up, he saw his mom eyeing him with concern. “Derek is convinced poor Stiles needs to go to urgent care just because he’s not answering his phone. To calm his nerves, I’m gonna head over to their house to check on him. I swear I am not just trying to get out of helping.”

“Well hold on just a second, and I’ll go with. We can drop Kira off at home.” Melissa said, packing stuff up into boxes.

Within fifteen minutes, the two of them were on their way to Stiles’, Kira at home safely away from the germs. They’d stopped and picked up soup and more medicine for him, just in case.

“He’s overreacting right?” Scott asked, though Derek’s words had planted a small seed of doubt in his stomach.

“Stiles looked pretty bad when we were over there. If he was sick enough to stay home, then Derek’s probably right to be worried about him.”

Scott pulled into the driveway and, as honorary owner of an emergency key (Erica had the other one), he opened the door. “Stiles? You awake man?”

Melissa didn’t bother waiting for an answer and trudged upstairs, take out container of soup in hand. She knocked on his bedroom door. “Hey, Sweetie. I don’t mean to wake you up if you’re sleeping, but you have Derek worried sick.” She pushed the door open and smiled sadly at the state of her step-son (What was one month? She’d been thinking of him as a second son for years now) sleeping shirtless across the bed, his feet hanging off the edge. She set the food and bag of medicine on his dresser and walked around the end of the bed. “Hey, can you wake up for me?” She shook his leg, but received no response. “We brought you dinner.” She shook again, but still no response. Concern grew in the pit of her stomach when she noticed him shivering but also sweating, a sure sign of a fever. His shallow, rapid breathing was another red flag. “Come on, Stiles. You’re scaring me.”

She pulled her out her phone and turned on the stopwatch, grabbing Stiles' wrist to check his pulse. "Okay that is too fast, way too fast. Come on, wake up." She ran her hands through Stiles' hair and pat his cheek. "Come on, look at me." When she still received no response, she rolled him over.

The spot on the bed where Stiles had been lying, was covered with what looked like vomit, though didn't smell like it. Realizing she'd need more light, he flipped the switch to the lamp on the bedside table. Dried on Stiles' chest and chin appeared to be blood, and it certainly wasn't vomit. He'd coughed that up. "No, no, no. That's not good." She shook him again. "Stiles, I need you to wake up. Your lips are blue." In just touching his skin, Melissa knew the fever was high. To the touch, Stiles felt like he was on fire. "Wake up, Stiles." Trying to remain calm was beginning to get difficult. It was one thing to be cool, calm, and collected at work, but when family was involved, it was a lot harder. She ran into the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth to dab on Stiles’ forehead.

Since Stiles' mouth hung open slightly, it left enough room for the thermometer. Within moments of closing his mouth around the device, the fever alarm sounded; the screen lit up red with the numbers 105.6 frighteningly visible. It was clear at that point that he was not passed out in exhaustion; he was unconscious.

“Scott! Get in here!” Her son came running up the stairs. “Call for an ambulance! Put it on speaker and set it next to me.”

Scott stared at her, momentarily frozen.

“Do it!”

He tapped 911 on his screen and pressed send.

“Hello 911, what is your emergency and address?”

“The address is  4528 Ridgeline Rd. My stepson is unresponsive. We just got here, and I have no idea how long he’s been unconscious.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes, but it is very shallow and wheezing. He’s been ill for at least a week, and I just took his temperature which came in at 105.6. Resting heart rate of 167. He’s coughed up bloody sputum with blue lips and nail beds.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Stay on the line, Ma’am an ambulance is on it’s way.”

Melissa instructed Scott to wait downstairs to direct the paramedics when they arrived, and he watched, half in a daze as they wheeled Stiles into an ambulance. His mom told him to go pick up Kira and John while she rode with Stiles to the hospital.

Given the severity of his condition, the ambulance took him to the nearest hospital, which unfortunately, was not Beacon Memorial Hospital. As they pulled into emergency at Sierra Heritage Medical, she felt her stomach drop. They were not as lenient with their visitation policy, and somehow, she thought ten minutes of visitation at a time for anyone other than probably Derek, would cause some friction.

 

 *   *   *   *   *

  
Derek had never driven so fast in his life. Okay, so that was not entirely true. Since Stephen was born, he’d driven that fast once, and that, sadly was also to the hospital when the poor little guy had an allergic reaction to medication for an ear infection.

Given what he’d been told, he knew that Stiles was in the ICU, which meant Stephen would have to stay in the waiting room. He could tell, by the way Stephen clutched tightly on his hand, that being there made him a little anxious. “What’s the matter, Buddy?”

“Is Stiles gonna be okay?” He asked as they walked down the corridor to the elevator.

In truth, he didn’t know. Melissa didn’t know much when she called him to say they had to call an ambulance for Stiles. “I hope so.”

“Me too. I don’t want him to die.”

Derek swallowed hard. “Me neither.”

“Then our family will be just two people again. It would feel empty.”

“That it would. Very much so.”

Stephen watched his father press the button for the sixth floor. When the doors opened, he saw Miss Melissa, Kira, and Scott sitting in chairs. Other people, strangers, were there as well. They must have sick family too. He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Hey,” Derek said softly, kneeling down in front of him, “he’s gonna be okay.”

“But you don’t know that.”

Hearing their exchange, Melissa came over. “Stevie, they are taking good care of Stiles. Okay?” Stephen nodded. “You look pretty tired. I think your daddy is probably going to stay here tonight with Stiles, do you want to stay with Kira and Scott tonight? Or you can stay with us.”

“Can I?” He asked, tugging on Derek’s sleeve.

Derek looked up at Melissa and mouthed ‘thank you,’ before turning his attention back to his son. “Of course. Can you go sit by Scott while I talk to Melissa?” He waited until Stephen was on the other side of the room before talking to Melissa. The way he always did when he was stressed, worried, or otherwise mentally distressed, he crossed his arms across his chest, thumbs rubbing his arms in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Please give me good news.”

“Well, they were able to get his fever down to 104, which is a big improvement. When I found him, his lips were blue, which means he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. So they have him on full oxygen to help bring his O2 sats up. His tests and chest x-ray showed severe double pneumonia. He should have gone to the doctor much sooner, to be honest.”

“I tried telling him that yesterday.”

“No, I mean like Wednesday. He’d been taking that Mucinex, and it didn’t seem like it was helping. Ignore that for now. The doctors said luckily, there was no sign of sepsis or any pleural effusion. That's when there is fluid in the lining around the lungs, which can lead to a collapsed lung. That would make things a lot worse.”

“If I hadn’t called Scott...if you hadn’t found…”

Her expression turned grim. “Yeah. His oxygen levels were dangerously low when paramedics arrived. It’s probably what caused him to pass out. Luckily, you called when you did, because too much lower and there could have been brain damage.”

Derek nodded, taking in the information. “He’s going to be okay right?”

“So long as he responds to treatment, and he passes the neurological exam after he comes to, yeah. They have him sedated, and John is with him right now. We need to get you registered for your wristband.”

“My what?”

“The standard visitation policy allows only one visitor at a time for no more than ten minutes at a time, unless they are the spouse, domestic partner, or significant other. You get a wristband, so you can stay with him overnight.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Come on.”

Once he’d been designated primary support person, he said goodnight to Stephen, who would be staying with Melissa and John that night, and then bravely ventured into Stiles’ room. The sight of him hurt to see. Hoses and wires were hooked up to him all over the place, and for a moment, he thought he would fall apart in the doorway. Somehow, though, he manage to contain himself.

Beside the standard chair found in most hospital rooms, he saw a larger chair on the other side of the bed. Before he sat down, he placed the plush wolf in his hand on the table next to the bed.  Stephen picked it out earlier in the day, and Derek hoped it would make Stiles feel better about being in this place. He knew his boyfriend hated hospitals, and with good reason. Derek supposed he’d hate them too if he watched someone he loved waste away in one.

The chair was surprisingly soft, and, as he found out a recliner. Well that would be nice if he managed to fall asleep. He took Stiles’ hand, giving it a little squeeze, careful to avoid the pulse oximeter on his finger. “Hey, Babe. You are too stubborn for your own good.” He sighed. “You have no idea how scared I was when after you wouldn’t answer your phone, Melissa told me they found you unconscious. For a minute there, I thought her next words were going to be ‘I’m so sorry, Derek. There was nothing they could do.’ I-” A few tears broke free from his eyes, and he dashed them away with his sleeve. “You’ve become such a part of me, of both of us. We need you. So...um get better as fast as you can, and you have to get better. I don’t know what I would do.” He moved the hair off Stiles’ forehead and kissed him. “I love you too much to let you go this soon.”

The door opened quietly, and in walked a nurse.

“I can go if you need me out of the way.”

“No, you’re fine.” She smiled at him. “I just need to check vitals and change a bag.” She shook a yellowish bag of fluids. As she worked, she gave him the play by play. “Oh, there should be an extra pillow and blanket in the cabinet, just there.”

“Thank you.”

“There are also vending machines just around the corner to your left.”

“How long...how long is he going to be out?”

“The doctor only ordered one round of sedation. They will reevaluate then. Hopefully, his fever will be down, and lung function will be back to where it needs to be, and they can take the breathing tube out. If not, they will keep him sedated until they can. The tube is irritating, so most patients are kept sedated while intubated.”

He thanked her as she left and blanket and pillow in hand, made himself comfortable in the chair, never letting go of Stiles’ hand.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

As it turned out, one round of sedation was not enough. Stiles was responding to treatment, albeit slowly, and Monday afternoon, they finally brought him round. For as long as he lived, Derek would never forget the look on Stiles’ face when he came to. Panic, fear and utter confusion were painted on his face like a mask.

“Hey, shh, shh. Don’t pull on that. Can you do that for me?” Derek asked when Stiles pawed at the oxygen mask and breathing tube. “That was helping you breathe. Now, they want to take that out, but they need to check you over first.” He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand when he saw tears prick the corners of his eyes. “You’re in the hospital.”

Stiles’ brows wrinkled in confusion, and he mimed for a pen. Derek placed a pen in his hand, holding the notepad in place. Stiles only wrote one word: What

“What happened?” Derek asked, and Stiles nodded. “You have double pneumonia.”

Again, Stiles’ brows drew together.

“Stiles, you almost died.” Derek tried to ignore the way his voice broke at that admission. He kept rubbing Stiles’ hand to keep him calm while the doctor checked him over. Eventually, he was ushered out of the room so they could finish.

While he waited, he phoned Stiles’ parents and Scott, filling them in. Even though Stiles was awake, Derek was terrified that as soon as they performed the neurological exam, they’d come out to tell him something horrible. He dropped his head into his hands.

“Mr. Hale?”

Derek looked up to see the doctor. “Yes.”

“We’re done. He’s groggy, and his voice will be scratchy for a little while, but based on our initial assessment, his mental functions have not been adversely affected. We can’t complete the evaluation until he’s further along in his treatment to test his mobility, however.”

Derek nodded and hurried back into the room, relief flooding through his veins.

“Der’k.” Stiles croaked out, making grabby hands at him. The moment Derek sat down on the bed next to him, he curled against his body and rested his head on his boyfriend’s chest. “Sorry I didn’t lis-”

“We’re not going to do that. I just care that you’re alive and getting better.”

Though it hurt to talk, he needed to get the words out. Keeping them inside would just make things worse. The potential damage scared him. “They’re still worried about me, whether my motor functions will be impaired. I mean, my hands work perfectly, which is good. Don’t know how well I’d handle that. You know, not being able to paint or draw, but my legs...what if-”

Derek ran his hands through Stiles’ hair. “Doesn’t matter to me.” He kissed the top of Stiles’ head. “If it turns out you limp, need a cane, hell even a wheelchair, or whatever, you’re still beautiful. We’ll deal with that together. I’m not going anywhere; we're not going anywhere.”

Stiles threaded their fingers together, cherishing just how damned lucky he was. Some people waited their whole lives to find someone who loved and accepted them exactly they way they are, no matter what happened. Overcome with that realization, he curled his free hand into the fabric of Derek’s shirt, clinging to it like a life raft. So long as he had his family, he could deal with it too

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on tumblr  
> captaintinymite.tumblr.com


End file.
